


Going Down

by mystiri1



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Community: areyougame, Elevator Sex, Exhibitionism, M/M, Oral Sex, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-29
Updated: 2010-08-29
Packaged: 2017-10-11 07:50:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/110099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mystiri1/pseuds/mystiri1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rufus has issues when it comes to dealing with his father, but he has ways to cope, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Going Down

Meetings between Rufus and his father rarely went well, although it sometimes seemed as if the elder Shinra was oblivious to the seething hatred his own son felt towards him. Instead, the President appeared to enjoy flexing his power over the younger man, and that was not an action to soothe Rufus's temper at all. Tseng was torn between wanting to be there to prevent bloodshed, and being glad on those occasions he was ordered to wait outside.

Today he could hear raised voices behind the heavy doors, and that had him tensed and ready for the inevitable fallout. It was rare for Rufus to visibly lose his temper – that was too much like conceding the 'old man' could upset him, and there was always the chance he might say something that would tip his hand.

The door swung open, hitting the wall with a 'thud'. Rufus strode through, heading directly for the elevator. Tseng quickly fell in behind.

Tseng waited as Rufus looked out through the glass walls, mouth tight, fingers flexing then curling into fists before unfurling once again. At last, the blond took a deep shuddering breath and turned to face the doors.

Tseng reached for the control panel, and hesitated. There was a chopper on the roof; perhaps it would be best to get Rufus out of the city long enough to blow his temper. And although he was supposed to let others do the piloting, Rufus enjoyed flying it himself – something he'd learned from Reno. “Going down?” he asked, already thinking of suggesting otherwise.

He was surprised by the hand that slammed past his own, hitting the button marked 'G'. “Why, Tseng, what a brilliant idea,” Rufus smirked, pushing him up against one wall and smashing his lips in a kiss that was more violence than affection.

Then Rufus was doing precisely that, sinking to his knees and wrestling Tseng's pants open. Tseng focused on keeping his expression blank for the camera in the corner – the one that would have a perfect view of Rufus and just what his mouth was doing from that angle. “I don't appreciate being used as a method of pissing off your father,” Tseng gritted out as Rufus swallowed him down. He could feel himself hardening in response to the warm wet mouth that closed around him.

Rufus drew back slowly, swirling his tongue around the head before letting it slide free. “Don't worry, he's not the only reason I'm doing this,” he said, then took him inside once more. Tseng let a hand rest on his shoulder, hand fisting in white fabric as teeth scraped just right.

His eyes slid from the camera to the numbers above the door. They'd already reached the 58th floor.

Fifty seven to go.

Surely Rufus would stop before they reached the ground floor, and the doors opened. He wasn't above causing a spectacle when it suited him, but he wasn't that much of an exhibitionist. Tseng certainly had no inclinations in that direction, anyway.

His breath hissed between his teeth as Rufus sucked hard, before resuming his previous rhythm.

Fifty-two.

Rufus was fumbling with the opening of his pants again, forcing it wider so the he could slide his hand inside. Tseng's free hand drew into a fist, nails biting at flesh as fingers tugged and teased his balls.

Forty-six.

He'd have to have words with the staff manning the security room today, but even fear of the Turks probably wouldn't be enough to stop the gossip. The whole company thrived on it, whether it was the sexual exploits of the SOLDIERs, Reno's latest prank, or the vices of the executives. Really, ShinRa's Vice President blowing a Turk in the elevator was probably tame as such things went, even if the VP in question was the President's own son.

Although if everybody knew how good Rufus was at such things, maybe there'd be more to gossip about.

Thirty-eight.

And then there was the President, who didn't like to be reminded that his son preferred men over women. He'd no doubt throw even more 'marriageable young ladies' at him, which would make Rufus even bitchier than normal, because he knew better than to completely alienate the families with which he'd one day do business.

Rufus pulled back to tongue the head again, probing at the weeping slit as his free hand worked the shaft of his cock with vigorous strokes.

Thirty-three.

Movement caught Tseng's eyes, and he turned to see the other elevator car gliding past, several figures inside. At least one of them turned in their direction before it slid upwards and out of view. Definitely no stopping the gossip.

Rufus swallowed him again, and hummed around the shaft. Despite himself, Tseng gasped, eyes closing as his hand let go the fabric to find a new grip on fine blond hair.

When he opened his eyes again, the numbers read twenty-one.

Rufus's head bobbed under his hand. He was sucking hard now, and Tseng could feel a tug at his balls accompanying each strong pull of his mouth.

Fourteen.

Tseng reached out for the panel and the stop button, deciding it was too close – not close enough – to risk it, only to have it slapped away. He looked down to meet heated blue eyes. “No,” Rufus growled, the word nearly unintelligible around the hard flesh in his mouth. The vibrations had Tseng shuddering in pleasure.

Twelve.

Tseng focused on the numbers again, dreading the moment when they would reach the ground floor and the doors would open, catching him with his pants down – literally – and Rufus sucking him off.

Eleven.

Rufus's hand was burrowing about in his underwear again as his head bobbed up and down.

Ten.

His balls were resting in the palm of Rufus's hand, soft, smooth flesh pressing and rubbing against his.

Nine.

A finger slid between the cheeks of his ass, crooked slightly -

Eight.

\- and pushed in.

White light flashed before Tseng's eyes, blocking the sight of the numbers as he came with a strangled cry.

He was only vaguely aware of the fact that Rufus didn't push away until he was finished, dimly registered the feel of fingers carefully tucking him back inside his pants, and the sound of Rufus moving away. When he opened his eyes again, the number above the door was two, and Rufus was straightening his long white coat. The blond frowned a little at the slight wrinkling on his right shoulder, brushed at it ineffectually.

One.

When the doors lid open at the ground floor, Tseng was standing at ease behind Rufus. He looked as calm and business-like as ever, possibly even a little bored. And Rufus was smiling as he reached a finger up to brush something from the corner of his lips. He strode out of the elevator as confidently as if he owned the entire building, which one day, of course, he would.

“Come on, Tseng,” he called to the man who followed him. “I suddenly feel like taking the rest of the day off.”


End file.
